Count the Steps
by balai
Summary: When the journey isn't clear at first, it takes longer to walk down the path. Series of Rogan short, interconnected stories. Do not own X-men. ON HIATUS.
1. Chapter 1

**Rated T for mild language.**

**Disclaimer in summary.**

**My second ever Rogan fanfic, following after the first almost directly. You don't have to read it, you just have to know that in my other oneshot, _Cure You_, Logan stopped Rogue from getting the cure. This picks up in X-3, just after the big fight with Jean and Magneto on Alcatraz (Alcatraz, right?)**

**Any feedback is welcome and appreciated.**

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**1.**

Marie was with them when they stumbled in the doors of the mansion, all exhausted and wearing faces bleaker than the night from which they escaped from. She held firmly to Jimmy's hand and he held to hers even after she'd stripped the light material that kept the world from her touch off of her fingers. She'd only known him for so long—since Kitty had gotten him out of that building—but even since then despite having just met her in the middle of a battle, he'd stuck by her with the passion that she thought perhaps a brother would. He could touch her so he wasn't afraid of her like everyone else was and it warmed her heart just enough to know it.

Logan had tried his damnedest to try to make her stay behind. _'Kitty's younger than me; she's going_', Marie had argued. _'You can't stop me from going, anyhow.'_ She was on the junior team just as much as Bobby, Kitty, Piotr, and Jubilee. She could take any of them down in the blink of an eye left to her own defenses (and that of the permanent residents in her mind). She might not have been confident enough to say that they _needed_ her there, but she knew that it wouldn't hurt.

He'd glared at her, biting the cigar between his teeth. _'You know I could stop you, kid. I've done it before.'_ He blew smoke out and his knuckles had burned with tension. He couldn't believe she thought he'd actually consider it.

Marie held up her hand, pulling off the thin leather glove and she had waved it before his face. _'This is important to all of us, Logan. If I'm not going, you're not going.'_

They'd both stood stubbornly, unwilling to back down, for several trying moments. Despite the chaos around them and the panicked voices, the two had managed to remain alone in their staring, tuning the rest of it out with an intensity that could crush both of them with the slightest room for it to snap.

One of the students, Jubilee, ran past them, pulling her hair back with a bright yellow scrunchie. _'Dudes, Miss Monroe said to move it!'_

She watched her friend run down the hall, turning into where she knew the X-Jet was kept. Uh-huh, he had no issues with _Jubes_ going, either. _'So?' _Marie pushed.

'_Not on your life, Marie,' _Logan had growled.

The girl clenched her teeth—who was _he_ to decide whether she should be allowed to go or not? _'Fine, Logan.' _She pulled at her other glove and held them on either side of his head. _'How do you like your naps? Restless or comatose?'_

'_LOGAN! Let's go!' _Storm sounded pissed off.

She had quirked her brow at him. _'What's it gonna be, Logan?'_

'_LOGAN!'_

The Wolverine growled. _'Fine, Marie.' _His hand clasped around her arm and he pulled her towards the hangar as she pulled her gloves back on. Just before they had reached the Blackbird, Logan had spun her around face to face with him and shook her shoulders gently, forcefully, to get his point across. _'If you get hurt—I mean it Marie; one little scratch—I'm personally hauling your ass back here and you're going to be training non-stop until the rest of your hair turns white. Got it?'_

Marie smirked._ 'Sure, Logan. If I get killed you can ground me.' _He'd snarled then.

She hadn't been killed. In the scheme of things and compared to the serious injuries and casualties they'd suffered, walking away with a few second degree burns and a smashed hand wasn't all too severe. Kitty's only damage was to her cheery persona which had deflated since she strapped herself in the plane to return. Jubilee had received the short end of the stick, along with some of the older students who had agreed to go along, and was taken down to the medbay under the watch of Dr. McCoy the second the plane landed. Bobby had seen better days; Piotr was well enough to help both him and Jubilee back to the jet after the whole ordeal.

But it was Logan she was worried about.

She'd been less than seventy feet away from them when Jean had gone…psychotic. She'd stared in horror as his skin ripped from his body, peeling and bleeding as he pushed on towards the woman she was sure he was in love with—he wouldn't have done it for any other reason. She'd been so transfixed by him facing down the woman with the glowing eyes that when John hit her from behind, she'd just jumped in surprise and couldn't tear her eyes away. He was _so close_ to her, talking—yelling—to her and then he'd stabbed her. She'd thought, with a twisted sense of normalcy, that he was betraying her in a way; marking Jean the same way he'd done to her unintentionally (the little of Phoenix that remained in her mind from their brief touch in the medbay screamed out in her mind and she pushed weak, bloodied her hands over her ears). But then he fell to his knees, his eyes clamped shut and he'd cradled Jean's limp body in his arms, and she couldn't find it in her to hate her. It was just petty jealousy and in a world where they were losing their freedom, having enemies among each other wasn't even fair. Which was why she'd stopped fighting Johnny.

She'd turned to face him, his eyes alight with anger and fear, and she'd spoken in a voice that was rougher and more saturated with her southern accent than ever before. _'I'm still your friend, John,'_ she'd told him. He gave her the oddest look, the same one he'd given her back in Massachusetts, and she'd walked away. Jimmy had reached his hand out for her and she took it with her unbroken hand and together they walked to the jet. She'd wanted to go to Logan, but she could only imagine how he'd be. She'd stood just inside the jet, looking out at him, until the last minute when Storm had announced they had to leave and he slowly lugged his way onto the aircraft, his bones seeming heavier than usual. He'd brushed past her and Jimmy and hadn't even spared her a glance.

He had, though she didn't know it at the time or even after, watched her the whole way back to New York, checking her over for any injuries that he would punish her for. And he'd stared at her just to be sure she _was_ there, really there.

Marie crawled through the hallway, somber-faced and worn as the rest of them. Storm brushed past her, her usually collected expression falling with her tears, and she hurried past the students up the stairs to her room. Marie didn't follow her; no one followed her; she, along with the rest of them, understood for once the weather witch's need to have a moment to herself.

She fell onto the couch at precisely the same time as Piotr, Jimmy only a breath behind her. The three stared at each other and breathed a consecutive sigh of relief, of pain. They'd survived. Running at a high speed from the doorway, Kitty hurled herself, sobbing, into Piotr's massive arms, clinging to him like he was her last lifeline standing. He closed his arms around the small girl, his face cultured to indifference, but Marie could see the longing in his eyes before he'd closed them tightly, holding her closer.

Rogue put her hand gently on Jimmy's shoulder—"Come on," she whispered, not wanting to disturb the moment. She pulled her hair from its band and shook it out to cover her face as she held her breath. Her face burned, wanting to cry, to scream, to do _something_, but it was more important that she stay calm. She wouldn't be able to go back if she didn't.

Jimmy followed her in silence during their trek through the mansion, up the flight of stairs and down a maze of halls. Marie's footing faltered when she passed Logan's door; it was cracked open just enough for her to see the splintered wreckage inside. She hadn't heard him, but that only made her more nervous about not knowing how he was handling it. _Was_ he?

She showed Jimmy to one of the rooms she knew was empty; it was in a different wing than her own, not too far from Piotr's and Roberto and Jesse's. She knew that it'd have to be cleared with Ororo—she was in charge now—but for now it'd give Jimmy a place to rest and feel like he was at home. Part of a home. She opened the supply closet and handed him fresh sheets and a pillow. Jimmy kissed her on the cheek. "Thank you." Even if her skin couldn't hurt him, Rogue still shrunk away.

Marie nodded. Without a word, she walked away to her own room, her heart clenching. She didn't want to have responsibilities for once. The leather suit that now stuck to her body, sweaty, itchy, and pinching was nothing but a reminder of the responsibilities that the next morning would bring. Fixing the wreckage. Once her bedroom door was closed, she peeled it from her lethal, pale skin. As much as her hand protested, turning a purple colour and beginning to swell, she couldn't stop herself until the leather lay at her feet and one of Logan's old white t-shirts hung loosely from her shoulders, hurting like a particularly painful sunburn against her back.

Then Marie cried.

A light rap on her door startled her and she jumped as it creaked open. Logan's body was silhouetted against the hallway light, his posture forced yet tired, and he cleared his throat. His eyes were dark, shadowed by his brows and haunted by a lifetime burned in a matter of four hours. She was afraid of what was going on in his mind.

"Damage check," he muttered gruffly as he leant against the doorframe. Marie stood, held up her singed arms and her broken hand for his view. His eyes traveled from the tips of her fingers to her shoulder and then down to her knee, raw and bleeding, and his jaw clenched. "That it?"

"Far as I know. I haven't actually looked in a mirror so right now you know more than I do."

Logan nodded. She grimaced as his nostrils flared. "You know what this means, right?"

Finally she laughed, defeated but still a laugh, for the first time since they'd left. "I'm grounded?" She didn't think that he remembered their deal with all that had happened, much less that he was going to enforce it.

"You bet your ass, kid," Logan grunted. He glanced down at her bruised hand. "Get some ice on that and get down to see McCoy."

"I was going to wait until tomorrow; he has enough going on now."

"I wouldn't recommend it." Logan closed his mouth though it looked he wanted to say more. He started back into the hallway and seemed to have second thoughts. "Kid?"

"Yeah?" Her hand burned with pain, throbbed, as she twisted her fingers together; a nervous habit. Her arms fell limply to her sides.

Logan frowned, the familiar crease between his eyes prominent even in the dim lighting. "Put some pants on before you do," he choked out, the words rolling off his tongue as if they were sour. "Boys 'round here can't keep their damn eyes to themselves."


	2. Chapter 2

2.

Marie fingered the chain that hung from her neck lightly as if she was afraid it would break under her touch. The tags glinted in the sunlight streaming from the window and she stared down at them, not quite understanding _why_ she had them again in the first place. Logan hadn't said a word to her that morning—the morning of Jean's funeral—but he'd stalked over to her during breakfast and had put them in her hands before turning around and going up the stairs again. It left half the kitchen shocked, mute and in awe (herself included) but Marie also had bit her lip to keep from showing a small smile.

After Alcatraz, Jubilee had been sentenced to bed rest for at least a week until her head wounds recovered and Hank deemed her concussion-free. Jubilee, though oftentimes drowsy or delirious, took full advantage of the situation and demanded round the clock attention by no less than two of her friends at a time, and the whole time—she didn't _stop_ talking.

"—it was the weirdest thing I ever saw; I mean, it was obvious by the way his mouth started slanting and his eyes got all tight, the boy was just trying _too_ hard to—Chica, are you even listening to me?" Jubilee pouted and waved her hand, throwing one of her fireworks at Marie and it exploded right by her face. Marie jumped back and Jubilee shook her head. "Shit, Roguey, I know you're all bright eyed and bushy tailed for Wolvie, but could you tone it down just a smidge? It kinda grosses me out. You've been staring at that thing for twenty minutes. I'm trying to tell a story here. It's a good story full of idiots and desperate slugs."

"Leave her alone, Jubes."

Marie glanced up at Kitty, surprised and grateful, and then her eyes turned to Jubilee, glaring. "I am _not_ panting after Logan, Jubes. It's _your_ tongue that lolls out of your mouth whenever you see him."

Jubilee shrugged off the accusation. "The man's _hot_. _And_ he knows it which only makes him hotter." She slurped loudly on her milkshake (that she'd begged and begged and _begged_ Warren to go into town for).

"I think it's sweet," Kitty said softly, her carefree joy not yet fully restored since Alcatraz. She plucked at the hem of her pink sweater and chewed on the inside of her cheek.

"You think it's sweet because you've got the same kind of worship for Colossus, dontcha Kit-cat?" Kitty's cheeks blushed and she looked away. Piotr…or Bobby, Marie wondered.

Speaking of…

Marie dropped the chain and stood, swiping her skirt smoothly down. Jubilee quieted and her dark eyes narrowed in on Rogue, stopping her newly-established rant about which colour her nails should be painted that afternoon, and she held the same concentration as a bird narrowed in on its prey.

"What's on your mind, Roguey?"

Marie stilled her hand. "I…uh..." it fell to her side quietly and she turned to her friends. "I have to go do something. I'll see you guys at dinner." Rogue pushed through the door and walked slowly down the halls, keeping close to the windows. So much was falling apart that day, so much was changing, that she didn't think they needed to know.

Especially Kitty. She loved Kitty dearly—she was one of her best friends—but Marie wasn't blind. She'd seen Bobby with her the night she tried to leave. Bobby wasn't alone in the moment, the embrace, and their kiss wasn't one-sided. Bobby hadn't spoken to her since it happened—he'd looked away when she passed him in the mornings and during classes—and Kitty hadn't mentioned it; she was perfectly content pretending it never happened (after all, it was perfectly obvious what the girl felt for Piotr). Still, Marie couldn't let it pass. Because it _had_ happened, and worse, she'd _let_ it.

She found herself standing in front of that door. It was singed at the bottom from the years when St. John had shared the room with Bobby and cracked somewhere in the middle, on the side of the hinges, from all the times the boys hadn't been on friendly terms. Now the doorknob seemed the least friendly of all to her and she feared the moment she touched it. Not that it would burn her this time, but she was almost afraid it would do much worse.

But she didn't have to. Bobby opened the door, shrugging a jacket onto his arms, and her hand was merely a breath away from the brass of the handle. She dropped her hand in shock at the same time Bobby's eyes widened, his movement stilled, and his ears burned red.

"Oh, hey Rogue," Bobby greeted her evenly, his voice less unsure than he felt.

"Hi Bobby." She bit at her lip and quietly asked, "Can we talk?"

"Talk about what?"

The southern girl sighed and she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Bobby, you know what."

The boy's eyes darted to the stairs and his chest sunk with his breath. "I don't feel very good right now, Rogue. Can we talk about this later?"

Marie shook her head. "Bobby, we can't. We've put this off long enough. I saw you two kissing." He didn't say anything and she suddenly felt much less sure about talking to him then. "Why did you do it? Did I do something?"

Marie didn't notice that when he glanced at the tags around his neck, his eyes seemed to frost over. She saw the frost alright, she just hadn't seen the _before; _the _why_. She plucked at her gloves. It made her wonder if it really _was_ her fault; if she'd said or done something that had unintentionally pushed him towards Kitty.

"What makes you think you did something, Rogue? Other than go off to get the cure without even giving me a chance to explain?"

Marie balked. "I didn't get the cure, Bobby. You know I didn't."

"Because Logan ran after you and stopped you."

"So what if he did?" she asked.

Bobby Drake felt a chill run down his spine and he felt his heart hardening just as his eyes had, Bobby stole another glance at the tags she wore proudly around her neck—tags, like she was property—and his throat constricted, a sour, biting taste that was left behind.

"If he hadn't followed you, would you have done it?

The girl crossed her arms and stood her ground. "I don't know, maybe. Would it have mattered? Even if I had gotten the cure, that wouldn't make me any different than I am now. It was what _I wanted_."

Bobby scoffed. Did _she_ even know if it was what she wanted? "Obviously."

The small brunette looked at him with angry, wide eyes. "I wanted to touch. Would that be so bad? Isn't that why you were kissing Kitty in the first place? You couldn't kiss your own girlfriend so you needed _someone_ to kiss? Or do you just like her more? Because the way I saw it, there had to be something wrong with me that you didn't even have the decency to dump me first."

Then he looked into her eyes, forest green and swimming in hurt, and he lost his fury. It was never _her_ fault. Bobby sighed. "I'm sorry. Look, Rogue, I know I messed up. And I should have tried harder but...I think you've already made your choice. I still don't know what mine is."

Marie bit at her lip and she began to have trouble breathing. "I didn't choose anything." She didn't even know that she _had_ a choice in this. It wasn't fair of her to think that she did. "But I won't hold you back if you want her. You're one of my best friends and I want you to be happy." She couldn't say that Piotr might not feel the same way; that was personal, a secret shared between her and Piotr.

He nodded. "I know, Rogue." Bobby leant down and pressed his chilled, soft lips against her cheek quickly so her skin hardly affected him (even though it did affect him on a mundane level), then backed away and straightened to his full height. "And that's what I love about you. But I still think we should talk about this later."

It was as if she was frozen; her legs refused to move and she couldn't even turn her head. She was even more confused than she'd been when she came down the hall. She'd been so sure he'd admit to wanting Kitty and would have jumped at the chance to get away…or gotten angry at her and maybe have defended himself. Or something. "Bobby?" Her voice shook.

"I really need to go. But I promise we'll talk later, Rogue." He brushed past Marie towards the stairs and his fists clenched at his sides, frosting over. Who the fuck did Logan think he was?

So when she'd snapped out of her trance, Marie wandered farther into the mansion, towards the danger room because she thought best on her toes. And she needed a clear head—it seemed that even though she left her room with the intention of clearing up a few stray worries, she'd caused even more.

Like the matter of a choice she'd made.

Because what had Bobby _meant_?

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**Leave me reviews! I might even take requests.**

**~balai**


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